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Welcome to Ezra / Much ado about Dillon
"Ladies and Gentlemen, This is your Captain, Colton Keller speaking. On behalf of myself and my crew, we welcome you to Ezra where the local time is exactly 12 noon. Passengers are welcome to stretch their legs planet side, but please remember we will be departing in exactly 24 hours. Ezra is home to pickpockets and thieves, so for your safety, please leave all valuables aboard the ship. We will have a security detail present. Crew, Deckhands will report to the cargo bay, security is with the ship, and we hope the rest of you enjoy your time on the armpit of the outer rim." "Not bad Sir." "Not bad, that was one of my best--Are you meeting the crew in Cargo for assignments?" "I was thinking I'd let them wing it." The captain raised an eyebrow. "Aye Sir. I'll be along in a minute. " Riley was hoping the infirmary had been as empty as she found it last night, but if luck were credits, she’d be broke. Adler was up and fiddling with some piece of equipment he must have brought on board with him, because she sure as hell didn’t authorize any purchase for-- whatever it was. “Just returning, Doc.” Riley said, shaking the bottle of pills. “Was a bit wound up from the long haul, sleep didn’t want to come easy.” The Yellow Jacks helped to remove any of the residuals, including the propensity to keep soldiers alert even when trying to shut down for the night. She used her own key to the cabinet to return the bottle she borrowed, only technically it wasn’t borrowing, as it was ship property. “Comes with tha territory,” Adler nodded. Given Riley’s sometime irascible desire to be left “alone on the bridge” during excessively long periods of straight line flight, the medic had his suspicions of her being “on the Mach.” Witnessing her return of the Chlopatemine to the pharmacy cabinet confirmed those suspicions. Still, being a man with vices of his own, he wasn’t about to offer a lecture concerning the long term effects of using both drugs. His hypocrisy would only go so far. But also, there was a much more pressing matter. “Lieutenant,” he said, “while yah here, we need tah discuss the health of one of yah deckhands. Ah had a fairly lengthy consult with Dillon’s doctah…” He followed with a brief description of the long term for Dillon. “Obviously, Ah can’t go intah detail, but Ah can suggest that he be given alternate work aboard. Galley chief, perhaps. He’s demonstrated good aptitude...assisted me in a procedure. We might try some pilot training…” Riley held up a hand, stopping him mid conversation to indicate that she was finished listening. The boy was sick, and the rim weren’t no place for the frailties of illness, nor was the ship. That aside, she quirked an irritated eyebrow as what she perceived the doctor was insinuating. The nerve, the testicular fortitude of this -- dentist -- It took her a moment to channel her thoughts into words without shouting. “I’m not teaching him how to fly a ship. One, I don’t want to, two, I don’t need a copilot, I don’t want a copilot, I won’t have a copilot, and three, I don’t take kindly to you inferring that anyone can pilot a craft. Hey, let’s roll the dice. It’s only the lives of everyone aboard at stake. So no, we might NOT try some pilot training.” She’d taken offense already. ”This conversation will end well,” he thought dryly as he attempted recommendations. “There is tha galley,” the medic offered. “Large crew an’ passengers…” Riley should have let the conversation go. She’d already decided the outcome, but the doctor, above all others had the ability to crawl under her skin. Maybe it was the sliver of respect she had for him, or the fact that she was still trying to wrap her head around a doctor-dentist turning gunslinger for profit. More likely it was the fact that she was intrigued enough to continue and keep trying . A ship like the Veil rarely attracts crew with happy home lives who are on the up and up. What was it that could make a man like Dorian run? In any case, respect or not? He was crossing a line, and Riley was not one to be crossed. "We don’t hire galley crew. If he ain’t fit to perform the job hired--” Technically, was he hired? I sure as hell didn’t hire him. Where the hell did he come from? Was he another ruttin’ stowaway? -- “If he ain’t fit, I’ll find a bullshit job for him. But the fee for using the med bay for dental patients just increased to half - which will go towards his room and board” "Oh...then Ah understand Ah'm tah receive a second share fah managing personnel?” "You aren’t managing anything. You're asking me to create a job and pay someone a share for it, the same share, I suppose that I’m paying people to hump cargo or swab decks." "Ah'm yah medic,” Dorian replied. “Part of that is makin' the best recommendations fah workin' tha crew yah hired, based upon their health.” “Ah’m the crew chief. Part of that is makin’ sure shit that needs done gets done. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re making the best decision, and I’ll call you a liar, because the best recommendation would be to take him to a core planet where he has a shot at living. So based on your recommendation, he's not fit to be a deckhand. I’ll make the call where to drop him off. If you want me to create a job? Then I want half.” Dorian offered a smirk. “That’s a name Ah’ve been called before, Mister Dillon is here by his own choosing...after a fairly explicit discussion of how Ah'd just have tah sit and watch when somethin' major gives out. Tah take tha risk was his decision...despite two doctahs telling him different. As Ah don't do the hirin' around here, Ah see it as mah responsibility tah inform tha people who do. Or should Ah say, “did?” he asked. He found it oddly interesting that from the very start, the pilot was attempting to force a negotiation to either reduce his take, or at the least, alleviate any responsibility for having Dillon aboard. “A lot of the crew I fired would choose to still be here but they ain’t because they didn’t or couldn’t do what they were hired to do. I hire. I fire. If someone isn't fit to work, then what you're asking for is charity. So what you want is this ship to be charitable, as long as it doesn't affect your profit. Does his crew seem like a altruistic bunch? They’ll willingly give up shares and increase their own workloads? The word mutiny springs to mind.” "No such thing,” Dorian replied. “If Dimitri broke a leg, Ah'd recommend other duty. If Jacy dislocated an arm, Ah'd recommend other duty. Aftah verifyin' this crewmendah's prognosis, Ah'm doin'part of wat yah hired me for and recommendin' other duty. Unless y'all promote me somehow, that's where mah per-view ends. Yah make tha most of it, or yah don't. Not really mah call, ma'am...sorry...lieutenant." Riley steamed like a tea kettle about to hit boil. If the doctor was looking to push buttons, if he wanted a fight? He needn’t look further. "I appreciate your recommendation, Doctor.. You appreciate this. If Dmitri broke a leg, it'd heal and he'd get back to work. If Jacy dislocated an arm, it'd heal and she'd get back to pissing me off. This -- what you’re telling me -- ain't gonna heal. I get it Adler. I do. He wants to see the verse. Lots of people want to see the verse. But see -- I don’t want to watch him die.. I won’t take part something that's at best suicide, and at worst, murder. I'll keep him on light duty until I get us to a core planet, which I've just decided will be our next stop. So, if you want to give up half your patient fees, I’ll agree he’s a passenger, your passenger, and it’s on you to sit and watch when somethin' major gives out. it's not on me.” There it was again...the hard nosed negotiating tactic, coupled with a need to cast off responsibility. “Good thing I had a mother, once,” he thought of the tactic as he offered his reply. "Takin' him to a core planet is tha reasonable decision. Ah'd make that one, mahself. Now, as yah medic, mah next recommendation would be that yah let him know yah decision. He may decide tah get off tha boat instead." Riley laughed, half to herself, half out loud as she folded her arms across her chest. "That’s the exact opposite of what we’re going to do. We’re not going to tell him until we're broken atmo and Ezra is under our asses. You know how many ships go to Ezra? We're the first one they seen in about a month, maybe two. Kids are going to start begging for handouts the minute you step off the Veil. You know how many hospitals they got? Here’s a hint, likely when we land, we'll be the biggest. I take him to a core planet and he's got options and chances. He can catch another ship. He can go home. He can find work planetside. This ain’t a hospice. I won’t--” She visibly regained her bearings and deadlocked eyes with him. Respect or no respect, this was her call, and when all else fails, the purpose of having rank is being able to pull it when needed. “You gave me your medical assessment. Your hands are clean., I do what’s best for the ship and it’s crew. a crew that you, Adler, are a part of. As such, I’m giving you a direct order to not to say a word to anyone about it. Clear?” "As a mountain stream. Kindly take tha word of a liar when Ah say that despite mah devil's advocacy in this discussion, Ah appreciate both tha challenge and tha solution yah have in mind.” He collected his hat and coat. “Ah’m headed fah town...see what sort of business Ah might drum up for us. There’s a saloon called the Gold Strike. If Ah’m not here, Ah’ll be there. Y'all know where tah find me if yah need anythin' more." Riley kept her eyes fixed six inches above his and nodded. “Dismissed..” "Good day."